


Dead Reckoning - Sequel to Bring Me To Life

by Dextrousleftie



Category: Final Fantasy VII
Genre: Anal Sex, Grief/Mourning, Love, Lust, M/M, Rescue
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-10-14
Updated: 2016-10-14
Packaged: 2018-08-22 10:26:25
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 10,356
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8282542
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Dextrousleftie/pseuds/Dextrousleftie
Summary: Cid is dead. Or is he? And will Vincent be able to arrive in time to save his life, if he IS still living? sequel to Bring Me To Life





	

“What do you mean, he’s dead?” my voice is very calm. I stare at the screen of the communicator, meeting Cloud’s compassionate sad gaze head on.

“I’m sorry, Vincent. The Highwind went down in a wilderness area full of monsters down on the southern continent. It was a bad crash. The wreckage covered a half mile area.”

“Have you found his body yet?” my voice is still calm, still detached. I don’t know if it’s shock or something else entirely.

Cloud shakes his head. “No, we’ve found a half dozen bodies of crewmen, but not Cid’s. But with all the monsters and scavengers in the area…” his voice trails off, but his Mako blue eyes say it all.

“Then he’s not dead” I say coolly. “If you haven’t found his body, he’s not dead.”

“Vincent…” Cloud begins. 

 

I cut him off. “No, Cloud. Nothing you say can convince me of this. Please do not try anymore.”

Cloud looks stricken. Obviously, the loss of one friend is being compounded by another friend’s inability to cope with the truth. I can see him thinking that. But it doesn’t matter. I reach out and turn off the communicator, cutting off whatever else Cloud might try to say. I stand and stare at its blank screen, trying to sort things out in my head.

 

 

There is a feeling of profound guilt, of course. This is the second trip of the Highwind’s that I hadn’t gone along on to act as crew. The last time was eight months ago, when I was nursing Shera through a bad illness. This time is much worse, however. Cid left without me because we had had an argument.

We seldom fight. Our relationship is rather tranquil, normally, because I loathe overemotional scenes and Cid isn’t one to start screaming quarrels with those he loves. This argument came as something of a surprise to us both, and began innocently enough with a discussion about the past. Cid pointed out to me, as he does from time to time, that I should give up the burden of guilt I carry around with me like ‘that damn cloak’. I pointed out to him that I am responsible for what happened to Lucrecia, and he became very angry. Angrier than I have ever seen him, even counting the time he found me again in the trader town after I left the party without a word and disappeared for a year.

“Listen Vince” he said tightly, “I’m really tired of you beating up on yourself like this. It’s gotta stop. I can’t stand to see ya in pain, but since the person causing that pain is you, there’s nothin’ I can do. I can’t beat up the bastard hurting the man I love. I can’t convince you to just give up all this shit. I’m really, really tired of not bein’ able to do anything. I love ya, Vince, more than life itself. That’ll never change. But I don’t know how much longer I can go on watching ya self-destruct like this. I’m due to take the Highwind to the southern continent the day after tomorrow. We’ll talk about this again after I come back. If ya still can’t see what I’m talking about, I don’t know what I’ll do” and he had looked at me sadly, in the way he had that makes me feel much worse than when he got angry and yelled. 

 

Unspoken was the understanding that he didn’t want me to come on this trip with him. That hurt even more. I hate to be separated from Cid for any length of time - it is surprising to me how quickly the feeling of loneliness overwhelms me. I knew that he only wanted to give me some distance, so that I could think about what he’d said. But it made me angry in return, because it felt as though he were abandoning me in some way. So I didn’t even go to the landing field to see them off, instead sulking in the house as though I were a ten-year-old child rather than an adult.

After the feeling of guilt comes a wash of anger. You left without me, Cid Highwind, and just see what happened! I swear, if you’re dead, I’ll hunt down your spirit in the afterlife and make you pay, I think furiously. Better anger than the despair that lurks just behind it, waiting to take over my mind and destroy me. I will not give in to it. Not yet. Not when I don’t know whether my beloved still lives or not. Time enough for that if I find his body and know, without a doubt, that he’s gone.

There is no room for grief just yet, either. I will only mourn when I have proof of Cid’s demise. Then and only then will I fall apart and give in to the agony of loss that begins to coil in the back of my mind like a cobra waiting to strike. I have too much to do to allow myself time to feel. Ruthlessly suppressing all emotion, I walk calmly down the hallway and into our bedroom.

 

Once inside, I strip off the casual blue shirt and jeans that I’m wearing. Going to the closet, I fetch out the crimson clothing that Cid never could talk me into throwing away, no matter how much he wheedled. I pull on the pants, jam my feet into the suede boots, and buckle on the shirt. I release my hair from its braid and run a brush through it savagely before I ruthlessly pull it back into a ponytail high on the back of my head. I tie on the headband, and last but not least reach into the closet one last time and bring out a fall of crimson fabric which I throw across my shoulders with a flourish.

In the full-length mirror, I see a ghost. A scarlet-eyed fragment of my past, peering at me out of the folds of a crimson cloak. This shadow of a dead man doesn’t smile back at me in the reflection. The rising light of the hunter grows in his eyes. Satisfied, I nod to this apparition in the glass and walk over to the bed. Kneeling down, I reach under to pull out the black case that usually rests under it. I open the case slowly, revealing the well oiled gleam of an old friend. Lovingly I lift my gun from its case, running my hand down the cool metal.

“You and I, old friend” I whisper to it, “Have places to go.” I stand up with it cradled in my arms, feeling more and more every minute like the old Vincent Valentine, the Vincent Valentine who existed before Cid Highwind. The dead man with the eyes of a monster. That other person, who loves Cid Highwind passionately and lives life to the fullest, retreats into a place within me. I know that if my quest turns out to be futile, that that Vincent will most likely be lost forever. If that happens, I will mourn him along with Cid.

 

I fill a knapsack full of supplies and spare bullets for my gun. As I work I hear the front door open. Something in me sends a wild spurt of hope through me - that it is Cid somehow miraculously returned to me. But I know better, for I know those soft footsteps. I don’t look up as Shera walks into the kitchen.

“Vincent” she says in a voice choked with tears. Most likely Cloud called her when he couldn’t get a hold of me again. “Oh, Vincent, I’m so sorry…”

“No, Shera” I say implacably, looking up at her at last as my fingers pull the buckles closed on the knapsack. There are tears on her cheeks, and her eyes are anguished. I am not the only person who loves Cid Highwind. I should comfort her, hold her, but I simply don’t have the time or emotional resources. “He isn’t dead” I say, putting all the force of my conviction in my voice. Something tells me that if he were, I’d know it.

“Oh, Vincent” she repeats, this time in sad disbelief. She thinks that I am deliberately refusing to see the truth. Perhaps she is right, but I cannot do anything else at this moment. “Please, I know how much you loved him, but you have to see…”

“NO!” this time my voice is a harsh, furious growl. She actually takes a step back from the look in my eyes. “I’m going now” I say more moderately, not wanting to scare her.

“Where are you going?” She asks, although I can see she already knows the answer too her question before I give it. 

 

“I’m going to find Cid” I say anyway, picking up the knapsack and slipping it on.

 

“But Vincent, that’s crazy! You’ll never be able to find him if the search parties couldn’t, not with all their technology! Please, stay here” she pleads.

I shake my head. “I’m sorry, Shera, but I must go. I will find Cid, no matter what it takes. Dead or alive. I could not live without knowing” I say more softly, with a fragment of the pain I have suppressed peeking through.

 

Her eyes fill up with more tears. “I understand, Vincent” she says. Then she walks over and hugs me, holding me tight. I don’t respond to this comforting gesture, because I cannot allow myself to. She seems to understand. “Be careful, Vincent” she whispers near my ear. “Cid would be mad if you let something happen to you.”

I finally gently push her away. “I’ll be careful, Shera” I promise her. “But I must go. I’ll take the Little Bronco II. Is it ready to go?”

She nods, wiping futilely at the sheen of tears on her cheeks. “All gassed up and ready to go. But the place where the Highwind went down is treacherous, Vincent. There’s nowhere to land a plane.”

“That’s all right” I say as I turn away toward the back door, “I won’t be landing it.”

 

(Cid POV)

 

God, my leg hurts. It feels like there are wild animals chewing on the flesh. If I look closely , I can see the white of the bone sticking out through the skin. But I don’t wanna look that close. It makes me feel sick to see it, and my stomach’s a mess as it is, anyway.

My wrists are killing me, too. But for a different reason than my broken leg. They’re shackled above my head, and being unable to move my arms for hours had made them go numb. But I can still feel the wrists for some reason, and the jagged metal of the crude cuffs is cutting the hell outta the skin of my wrists. Blood keeps dripping down my forearms and running up under my shirt. Then it dries, and itches like crazy on my skin.

 

It’s been forever since one of my captors brought me a cup of water. My thirst is raging by now, and my tongue feels like its sticking to the roof of my mouth. I wonder if they’re going to just leave me hanging here until I die of thirst and sepsis from my untreated wounds. Probably. They don’t seem like really good guys. Bandits seldom are, and this bunch seems to be the usual group of sadists and just plain evil bastards.

Closing my eyes, I wearily mourn the loss of both my beloved Highwind and the good group of young men-nay, boys, really, who died when she went down or were killed by the bandits afterward. Better a clean death, I suppose, than being eaten by the monsters that roam through the wilderness. But I still feel responsible for their deaths. I was their captain. And I couldn’t even go down with my ship properly.

The thing that eats at me the worst is the fact that I left home without making up with Vince. I left on bad terms, both of us angry at the other, and now most likely I’ll never see him again. My last words to the man I love were angry ones. I can’t stand that. But there’s no way to turn back time, to go back and make it better. 'Dammit, I’m so sorry, Vince,' I think dejectedly. 'How I wish I could tell ya that I love ya one last time.'

 

The door of my stone cell creaks open, and the bandit Chief Goran walks into the room. He’s a huge piece of work, built like a brick wall with a drooping moustache that nearly reaches his collar bone. His eyes are small and cruel, and a weird light blue that almost makes him look blind. There is a perpetual sneering smirk tattooed onto his ugly mug, and I for one am frankly tired of looking at it.

“Good morning, Captain Highwind” rasps this pretty piece of work cheerfully. As if I would know what time of day it is, in a windowless cell with no clock. I give him my best neutral stare, one I learned from Vince. He frowns a bit at that, and I take great pleasure in confounding him in even the smallest manner. 

 

“I hope your accommodations are to your liking” he continues after a moment. He waves a hand at the dirty, cold, square stone room.

I work up some spit into my mouth. “Yeah, it’s just great. Four-star room, gourmet meals, and pleasant cockroaches. The staff leaves a bit to be desired, though. You need better customer service if you want to attract the really high-class guests.”

Goran throws his head back and laughs at my sardonic reply. “Now, see, that’s why I’m so happy to have to keep you alive for a bit longer, Captain” he says when he can speak again. “You’re great entertainment.”

“I’m a real laugh riot” I agree sarcastically. “Why are ya keepin’ me alive, if ya don’t mind my askin’? Not that I’m not grateful or anything, mind ya” I add.

“Well, you are the Captain of the Highwind. Or its former captain, anyway, since what’s left of it could be shoveled into a trash can. And only you know the codes that open the captain’s safe. We know that you were carrying some very important papers on this trip, and that they were being kept in that safe. We haven’t found it yet, but once we do you’ll tell us how to open it. And then I’ll personally put you out of your misery, like the humanitarian I am.”

“Thanks a lot” I reply dryly, even as my mind races. The papers Goran was talking about were a packet that Reeve had given me to be hand delivered to Junon, the former Shinra sub base. I was going to drop them off to the commander of the base after I dropped off my primary load, a bunch of building materials ordered by the ravaged town of Mideel. Over two years after the town had been destroyed by the Lifestream breaking through the ground, and the poor townsfolk had finally scraped together enough money to try to rebuild. At least they’d gotten their stuff before the Highwind was brought down by a Shinra missile.

I don’t know what is in those papers that would interest a bandit chief. But then, I don’t know where he got his hands on Shinra weapons like the missile he used on the Highwind. This is obviously no normal bandit chief. Somebody is backing him and supplying him with artillery. I wonder briefly who that might be, but there are too many possibilities.

Goran smiles at my silence. “Surprised you, didn’t I, Captain?” he says tauntingly. “I like to keep people guessing. You, for example, have to be wondering who would go to all the trouble of bringing down a ship the size of the Highwind just to get their hands on some documents. But that information is on a need to know basis, and as a soon to be corpse, you definitely don’t need to know.” He laughs at his own non-humor, walking over to look down at my wounded leg, which is stretched out in front of me.

“Tssk. That looks bad” he says jauntily. “It’s too bad for you, but I can’t spare any healing potions on someone I intend to kill very soon anyway. You’ll just have to suffer with it. At least you’ll have the consolation of knowing that that won’t be for long.” He winks at me and strolls out of the cell, letting the door clang shut behind him.

 

Alone in the cold dank cell once more, I try to relax as best I can against the hard damp stone wall behind me. If I were to stay here for very long, no doubt I'll catch pneumonia. That won’t be a problem, obviously. Once Goran and his foul bunch find that safe, I’m done for. Of course, I could refuse to tell him what the codes are, but that just means that I’d die slower and far more painfully as they torture the information out of me. Better to make it quick, since I know that I’ll most likely talk pretty quickly. I don’t have the world’s highest pain tolerance. Sorry, Reeve, I think as I fall into a light doze. I’d protect your papers for you, if I could. Hope they aren’t anything too vital.

 

 

(Vincent POV)

 

I pull the ripcord on the parachute as I drift towards the dense growth of trees below. The Little Bronco II continues on its way on autopilot. It’ll run out of gas and crash in a few hours. If Cid is still alive, he’ll most likely kill me when he finds out. But I can’t concern myself with that right now. Instead, I concentrate on finding a break in the almost solid mass of trees. I need to find a place to land, and I don’t want to end up tangled in a tree.

There. I see a dark opening among the green. I pull on the cords to steer the parachute in the direction I want it to go. Fortunately, there are no heavy crosswinds to contend with. Slowly I drift down toward that opening, seeing it get bigger and bigger as I fall in a controlled dive. I slide into the break in the trees like a rabbit going down its hole, and the parachute doesn’t catch on anything. There is a short time of falling through twilight, and then I descend below the canopy and my night sighted eyes see the open patch of ground that was created some time in the past by a lightning strike. The corpse of a giant tree lies sideways, and the burned stump sticks out of the ground in the middle of the empty patch. It is nearly as big around as a small house.

A twist of the cords, and I land a few feet away from the stump. My knees absorb the shock of my landing, and the parachute flutters to the ground behind me. I open the buckles on the harness with an impatient gesture, and leave t he swath of white silk lying where it fell. I remove my knapsack and set it on the stump while I rummage in it for the geosynchronous tracking device that I brought along with me. Not only will it tell me where I am, it will also lead me to where the wreckage of the Highwind lies.

 

I find the small device and extract it from the sack. I turn it on, waiting for the little screen to flicker on. A few pushes of a button, and I know where I am relative to the crash site. It’s only a few miles away, straight through the forest. I shrug back into the knapsack, and with the device in hand I start walking in a south-westerly direction.

I’m used to walking. The hike through the close, dark forest is nothing. I’ve been to far worse places in the past, and being alone has never been a problem for me either. I get into the rhythm of my stride, emptying my mind of all thoughts and worries. I don’t think about what I might find once I reach the crash site. I simply move forward, as much on auto-pilot as the Little Bronco II is.

 

I carry my gun in the crook of my elbow, although I’m not frightened of the monsters that roam this forest or any animal predators I might encounter. They would simply get in my way, and I don’t have time to bother with them. Better to shoot them and continue on rather than spend my energy transforming into Chaos and dealing with them that way. I need to conserve my energy for whatever I find at the crash site.

 

As it is, I only have to kill three monsters. No high-level ones, either. I leave their bodies to decompose where they fall, barely breaking stride each time. Finally, the device indicates that I’m approaching the place where the Highwind went down. I find a break in the trees, and step out into the ripped up section of trees and earth that was once a thriving part of the forest. Splintered heaps of wood lie everywhere, and the sunlight glints on the jumbles of twisted metal that were once a proud airship.

 

The Highwind had come down hard. Pieces of it are spread out over a square mile in diameter. Some of these are no bigger than a human hand in size. Jagged edges stick up out of the twisted heaps, and the girders that make up the framework look like the ribs of some monstrous skeleton. I pick my way carefully through this dangerous maze, seeing why the search parties had had such a hard time finding any bodies among this confusing mess. 

 

There is something odd here. My eyes can’t see it at first, but my mind is nudging me. I stop and stare at a fairly intact section of the hull. I can see one of the painted legs of the lady who graced the aft section near the engines. There were what looked like burn marks on the metal, blackened areas that look too large to have been caused by the impact or even by an engine fire. And there is the remains of a very large hole, its edges blackened and curling. What caused that hole? And was it made before or after the Highwind went down?

Uneasy now, I skirt the piece of hull and go deeper into the crash area. I wander around, my eyes searching for confirmation of what I have now begun to suspect. I find it when I discover tiny fragments of green-grey metal among the larger pieces of the airship. A few of them are large enough that I can see lettering on the metal. One says SHIN, another is the beginning of a string of numbers. I know what I am looking at - the remains of a Shinra missile. The Highwind didn’t crash - she was brought down deliberately.

 

But by whom? And why? Why would anyone want to kill Cid Highwind and his crew? Cid isn’t wealthy, and he has nothing that anyone wants. I can see if someone was trying to steal the Highwind, as intact it was worth a good bit of money. But in pieces like this it isn’t any good to anyone.

 

My puzzled musings are interrupted by the sound of voices drifting over the crash site from somewhere off to the left. Instantly I slide into the shadows of one of the larger pieces of hull, crouching down with my gun cocked and ready. This might still be the rescue party, but my instincts tell me that it is not. Whoever is out here among the wreckage is up to no good. I stay still and let my phenomenal hearing pick up what the voices are saying.

 

“I’m telling you, it ain’t here” one voice says impatiently.

“It’d better be, or the boss’ll have a fit” replies another, deeper voice. “We haven’t looked everywhere. We’ll just have to keep looking.”

“Yeah” sighs the first voice “But this is such a mess, we may never find it. The boss should have found a better way to bring this sucker down. Some way that left it more intact. As it is, we don’t even know which section the captain’s cabin was in anymore.”

I feel the hairs stand up on the back of my neck at these words. Why do they want to know where the captain’s cabin is? Who are they, and why did they bring the Highwind down? What is in the captain’s cabin that is so important to them? I think hard as the voices go quiet for a minute, the searchers turning their attention to their quest once more.

There was nothing in Cid’s cabin except for some furniture, a small computer terminal, Cid’s clothes and accessories, and…the built-in wall safe. That must be what they are seeking. I don’t know what is in that safe, but whatever it is it must be immensely important. Why would they go to all the trouble of bringing down the huge airship otherwise? And killing the entire crew in the process? Whoever they are, and whatever they want, they shall not live to enjoy the fruits of their labor. They shall die for their sins, and only when the blood of everyone involved in this ‘accident’ is spilled will the souls of the crew be avenged.

I close my eyes and begin to loosen the reins on Chaos. The demon snarls softly in pleasure, for he’s had little fun in the past year or so. His kill lust grows as my own rage fuels that black miasma of hate churning inside the evil creature. I prepare to open myself, to let Chaos burst forth from inside of me and kill, when the voice speaks up again.

“This is hopeless” states the first voice, sounding disgusted. “Can’t we at least ask that guy where his cabin was? To maybe pinpoint the area where it might be better?”

 

“Oh sure” replies the second voice in good-natured disgust. "And he’s just going to tell you that, is he? By now he knows that once we find it, he’s a dead man. He’s not going to want to help us find it. Get real, man. Just keep looking.”

The second voice grumbles on, but I pay no attention to what it says. I’m too busy trying to stuff Chaos back inside myself when he was so close to being freed. Their words have made a jolt of amazed joy run through me. Cid is alive! And these men know where to find him. I can’t kill them just yet, until they lead me to my lover. With a wrench, I force Chaos back into the darkest recesses of my soul and slam the door behind him. His scream of rage says that I’ll pay for my actions later.

Soon, I promise the furious demon. Soon I’ll unleash you. And then you can kill to your hearts content. But for now, we must wait. Chaos growls in return at my thought, frustrated and boiling mad. I ignore him as I slide sideways and begin to make my way closer to the origin of the two voices, using the shadows and pieces of the wreckage to conceal myself as I ghost silently towards my targets.

 

(Cid POV)

 

One of the bandits brings me another drink of water, which I drink thirstily. I’m beginning to feel feverish now. My wounds are becoming infected. Sweat beads on my forehead, and I let my head slump forward again once the bandit leaves the cell. My mind is beginning to feel fogged. Maybe this will all work out in the end ,anyway. Goran won’t be able to get the codes to the safe out of a delirious, half dead pilot. He might heal me if I’m too sick to talk, I suppose. I don’t care one way or the other. My brain feels like it's throbbing in my skull.

I think I slept for a few hours. Dozed, anyway. I only woke up when the bandit kicked me in the side so that he could give me the water. I contemplate just trying to go back to sleep, but the position I’m in doesn’t let me be comfortable enough to do that. I start to have a waking dream, in which I see Vince standing in front of me. He’s dressed as he used to, and I want to snarl at the sight of that damn crimson cloak. He looks down at me, and his scarlet eyes are intense.

“I’m coming, Cid” he says.

 

I lift my head a bit. “What?” I croak, my voice nearly gone.

 

“I’m coming, Cid” he repeats urgently. “Just hang on, beloved.”

I frown at the apparition. “Ya know, if I’m going to have hallucinations about you, Vince, ya could at least have the decency to appear in them naked.”

The ghost of Vincent snarls at me. “There’s no time for your jokes, Cid. I swear, the next time I rescue you you’d better be more serious about the whole thing.”

“I think you’re serious enough for both of us, Vince “ I point out to him.

He shakes his head. “You’re hopeless” he says, before he disappears. The cell is as cold and empty as it was just a moment before. I stare at the bit of empty air that had just held the ghost of my lover, and wish I had enough moisture left in me to cry. Damn hallucinations, trying to get me to feel hope in a situation like this! Trust even a delusion of Vince to be practical and serious. I’d have much rather that he’d just kissed me and told me he loved me. At least it would give me something to make me feel better, and take my mind off of the throbbing pain of my wounds and the fever. Oh, well, par for the course. I slip into a half-conscious state then, and my last coherent thought is of Vince.

 

(Vincent POV)

 

The two men poking around in the wreckage are a scurrilous-looking pair. One is tall and heavyset, with a mane of unwashed-looking dark hair tied back with a dirty bandanna. He’s wearing a battered leather vest with no shirt under it, and a pair of pants that frankly look as though they could stand up by themselves. The other is skinnier and amazingly ugly, with two large scars bisecting his bony cheeks and a mouth full of rotted teeth. He’s clad in a greasy poncho and a pair of leather pants over square-toed combat boots. His lank dirty-blonde hair is pulled back with a thong.

Unprepossessing they may look, but their weapons are state of the art. The assault rifle strapped across the back of the larger one is standard Shinra issue. The skinny one has a hand gun shoved into his belt, and its in much better condition than his clothing. Who are these scum? And why are they toting around this kind of fire power? Where did they get it? For that matter, if they were the ones who’d brought down the Highwind, where did they get the Shinra missile that they’d used? All good questions, but ones that I can’t get an answer to just yet. All I can do is watch the two fools as they poked about among the wreckage, searching for the safe.

Patience is usually a virtue I have a great deal of, but not now. I want to know where Cid is being held, and these ratty bastards know. The urge to unleash Chaos on them is great, but the demon will simply tear them to pieces. It won’t wait while I try to get answers from them. Time seems to slow to a crawl, as I hunch down next to a large piece of the hull and wait for the duo to finally lose their own patience.

 

This takes longer than I would have thought it might, because they are obviously terrified of having to go back and tell the ‘boss’ that they couldn’t find the safe. But finally the skinny one straightens up and whines to his companion: “This is useless. We could be out here all night with the monsters, and we still wouldn’t find it. We need more of the guys out here to help us.”

The taller one considered this argument. “I suppose you’re right. If we tell the boss we need more help because this mess is too big for just the two of us, he might buy that. Then we won’t have to come back until tomorrow morning. It’s getting dark, anyway” and indeed, the shadows were thickening among the trees as the sun dipped down towards the top of the trees. “Let’s go.”

The two turn and begin to walk eagerly away toward the edge of the crash site. I see a small armored car parked near the tree line, and I move swiftly to get to it before the two men can. Again, the car looks like something that such low characters shouldn’t have. It looks military in design. I crawl under the car and lay still until two pairs of feet appear on either side of it, and the doors are opened. When they close, I roll out from under the vehicle and jump onto the back where there are no windows. Clinging to the weapons rack on the top, with my feet firmly planted on the bumper, I move with the car as it roars off into the trees onto a narrow track that has been cut painstakingly out of the brush.

 

I abandon the car at the foot of a low hill. The track runs up the hill, and I can see the bulk of a fortress-like stone building above the trees. It sits at the crest of the hill, with a good view of everything for miles around. I run into the trees and make my way circuitously up the hill. I reach the top and find that the trees have been ruthlessly cut back to leave a large ring of bare earth. There is nothing to use as cover for anyone trying to get into the fortress. My sharp eyes pick out sentries on top of the flat roof, constantly patrolling. There are no windows in the building except for narrow irregular slits. The only entrance seems to be the large pair of iron-bound doors that are firmly closed.

Any mere man would be unable to get into the fortress. But I am not a mere man. I smile savagely as I reach down for Chaos. 'Now is the time,' I think to the demon. 'I will let you go, and you will kill everyone in that building except for Cid. You know what I will do if you harm Cid. I’ll find a way to kill myself, and you’ll lose your only link to this world and will have to go back to the Shadow Realms. Even when I don’t call for you often, I know you still prefer to be in this realm.' 

I feel the demon’s reluctant acknowledgement. It will not do anything to jeopardize its only way to materialize into this fun realm where it can kill and eat indiscriminately, and revel in blood and terror. It knows that I will keep my word if it so much as lays a single claw on Cid. When I feel its assent, I loose the chains that bind it within me, and let the demon out. Chaos bursts forth from inside me with a feral scream of joy, and I am reduced to a mere passenger in my own body as Chaos opens its black wings and launches itself skyward.

The sentries on the roof have time to see what is coming toward them, but that doesn’t help them. The bullets a few of them manage to loose off spang uselessly off the demon’s thick armored hide ,and Chaos snarls furiously as it folds its wings and drops down onto the terrified sentries. I choose not to watch the carnage that then takes place, as the demon slaughters everyone on the roof with joyful abandon. When it is over, Chaos drops over the side of the roof and glides down toward the entrance doors.

A man emerges from the fortress with a rocket launcher over his shoulder. Chaos laughs at this, and in almost a leisurely fashion dodges the small rocket that the man shoots at it. Before he can reload, Chaos falls on him with a harsh shriek. Its claws rip his throat out in a gout of scarlet arterial blood.

It then turns its attention to the doors. They’ve been closed again, but Chaos simply puts out a massive hand and rips one of the doors right off its hinges. Screams erupt in the fortress as the demon ducks its head and flows into the building in search of more victims. It doesn’t take it long to find them, and more gunshots erupt as the men fire uselessly at the enraged demon. It runs them down one by one, taking its own sweet time, enjoying itself thoroughly. There is nowhere that the terrified men can retreat to that the demon cannot follow. Room-by-room it stalks its victims through the fortress, and blood is soon painted on the walls and floor of almost every room.

I tune out the screams and death agonies of the demon’s victims. They deserve to die, and Chaos will make them pay for their many sins in blood. But I don’t take the glee in their deaths that Chaos does, and I simply wait in resignation for it to be finished. Then I can go look for Cid, and get out of this charnel house.

 

There are only a few men left alive. They’ve retreated down into the bottom of the fortress, and are holed up in a narrow corridor lined with metal doors. Their leader, a huge man with a drooping black moustache, glares at Chaos out of ice-blue eyes. He’s the only one who doesn’t seem to be afraid of the demon. I wonder dimly why, as Chaos stalks down the hallway with its wings folded, taking its time over the kill.

 

The man pulls a strange-looking weapon out of his tunic. It has a bulbous glass muzzle, and a weird swirling ball of energy where the chamber would be on a gun. He points this peculiar weapon at Chaos, making the demon roar with laughter. What are these puny humans and their little weapons to one such as it? It lunges forward and grabs one of the men, pulling his heart out of his chest in one smooth motion.

 

Three of the men scream and run. But the big man pulls the trigger on the odd glass weapon, and a stream of misty energy shoots out of the muzzle and strikes Chaos full on the chest. The demon screams again, but this time in agony. I dimly feel its pain as the energy envelopes the demon in a cloud. The cloud tightens, closing like a fist over Chaos. The demon can’t even struggle as it is bound up by the energy.

'Go back to where you came from,' I command Chaos, banishing it. It does so gratefully, afraid for the first time it its existence. Chaos melts back into me, and I am myself again. The cloud of energy dissipates when Chaos disappears, leaving me standing in the corridor with my gun pointed steadily at the face of the big man.

“Drop that weapon” I tell him coldly. “Or you die now.”

 

He does as I tell him to. His eyes are wide, shocked by the demon’s sudden transformation into a red-eyed man with a gun. The weapon shatters when he drops it.

He puts up his hands in a gesture of surrender, waiting to see what I’ll do. “Where is Cid Highwind?” I ask him.

He blinks. His mouth opens, and I know that he’ll try to lie to me. “I know he’s here” I say menacingly. “And my patience is gone. Tell me or I will call up the demon again and let him play with you.”

This is a lie, because I will not be able to call Chaos again so soon. But he believes me. He gestures to a door a few feet down the corridor. “He’s in there” he says.

“Open it” I say. He moves cautiously to do so, using a key he takes from a ring at his belt. The door swings open with a creak, and he steps back.

I walk over to the door. Just before I walk into the dimly lit room beyond, I lift my gun barrel and smartly whack the big man on they temple with it. He goes down like a ton of bricks. I’m not particularly worried about whether he’s still alive or not. I step into the square stone room, finding a dirty, cold space with moisture dripping down the walls.

A man is slumped against the far wall, his hands raised above his head by a pair of iron shackles. His blonde hair is dirty and streaked with blood, and he isn’t moving. Blood is dried on his arms, and I smell the sweet smell of infection. As I walk closer, I see that there is a piece of bone sticking out of his right thigh. The wound is obviously going septic. But he is still alive, for I can hear the harsh rattle of his breathing.

 

“Cid” I whisper, in relief and horror at the extent of his injuries. How long has he been lying on the damp stone floor without medical attention? I have the sudden urge to go back out and rip the big man to pieces with my bare hands. Instead I kneel next to Cid and touch his shoulder gently.

 

“Cid” I say again, louder. His head moves a little, and a low moan escapes his lips. His eyelids flutter, and I see a bit of glazed blue eye before they close again. I pull the knapsack from my shoulders and rummage in it for the heal materia that I packed near the bottom. Although I knew I wouldn’t need it for myself, my firm belief that Cid was alive led me to bring it along just in case. I finally find it, and pull it out with a sigh of relief.

Holding it over Cid’s still form, I active it with a word and watch as the blue-green healing energy swirls over him and them sinks into his body. It shimmers under his skin as the nasty break begins to mend, the bone flowing back under the skin smoothly. The bright red of fever begins to fade from his skin. He stirs restlessly as the healing takes affect, and his eyes open slowly. Their blue depths are still rather dazed, and he blinks as he takes in the sight of me kneeling next to him.

He smiles. “Hello again, Vince” he says rather cheerfully. “Are you going to get naked this time?”

Blankly I stare down at him, my brows furrowing. What is he talking about? “Umm…It’s really me, Cid. I’ve come to get you.”

He nods. “Of course you have. You said you would, didn’t you? But I’d really rather have a kiss than a hallucination giving me false hope, Vince. So how about it?”

Apparently he thinks I’m a fever dream. It makes me smile wryly. “Very well, Cid” I say, before I lean over and kiss him full on the mouth.

He moans as I slide my tongue into his mouth. I grip the side of his head with my human hand, holding him in place, as I put all of my love and relief and joy into the kiss. When I finally pull away, his eyes are even more dazed and his mouth hangs open as he breathes heavily. He stares wildly at me. “You’re real” he says in shock.

“The last time I checked” I reply in amusement. “I’ve come to get you out of this place, Cid. Shall we get out of here?”

“Hell, yeah” he says fervently. “But what about these things?” he lifts the manacles a bit.

I go out into the corridor to take the key ring from the big man’s unconscious body. It takes me a few tries, but I finally find the one that opens the iron cuffs. Cid cries out in pain as his hands fall limply into his lap, bloodless and white from the circulation being cut off by the manacles. I take his one of his wrists into my own and gently chafe it to try to get the blood flow going again. The skin is broken and raw, but Cid can’t feel anything because of the numbness.

 

“See, I knew I’d be able to get you to hold my hand someday, Vince” Cid murmurs. I give him an ironic look as I continue the massage.

“Why are you wearing that damn cloak again?” he says next, staring peevishly at the crimson folds that half-obscure my face.

 

“I did it just tot annoy you, Cid” I say calmly. 

 

He snorts in disgust. “I’d actually believe that, Vince” he growls.

Pins-and-needles are returning to Cid’s left hand, so I switch to his right. He watches me with the oddest look on his face. When I glance up at him enquiringly, he smiles crookedly. “I’m not sure I want to know how you got here, Vince” he says. “But I sure am glad to see ya, baby. I thought that I’d die here without being able to tell ya one more time how much I love ya, and that I’m sorry about what I said to ya.”

My hand stills. I meet his eyes squarely, so that he can see what I am feeling. “No, Cid” I say. “You should not be sorry. It is I who am sorry. You were right in what you said, and I know that you only said it because you love me. When Cloud called to tell me about the Highwind crashing, and I thought you were dead, I saw clearly that you were correct. I have let myself dwell in the past, wallowing in self-pity and guilt, when I should have been enjoying my life with you in the present. I have been hurting both myself and you in the process. But no more, Cid. I have been given a second chance to be happy, and I intend to take it. I love you, Cid Highwind. You ARE my life” I lean forward to kiss him again, and he groans against my lips. When I pull away, his blue eyes are alight with the life I love in him so much.

“I love ya, too, baby, and you’ve made me happier than I can say. This makes the loss of the Highwind almost worth it.”

“Almost?” I say with a mock-frown. He laughs.

 

“Well, it might be a tie” he concedes. 

 

I growl at him softly. “I guess I’d better not tell you about the Little Bronco II then” I say ruefully.

 

His mouth opens silently. “What do you mean?” he asked worriedly. “Or do I even want to know?”

“Probably not” I reply. “I’ll tell you the whole story later. For now, I think we should get out of here and try to find some transportation. Since we’re in the middle of a forest, I don’t want to have to try to walk out of it if I can help it.”

He looks like he’s like to push the issue, but I put a hand under his armpit and lift him bodily to his feet. He staggers a bit, swaying, because his legs are still rubbery from not being used for so long. I support him as we leave the cell. Hew stops cold when he sees the big man still lying unconscious on the floor. “Is he alive?”” he demands.

“Yes. Why?”

“Well, if we can swing it we should tie that bastard up and bring him with us. He’s just supposed to be a bandit chief, but he has a lot of Shinra technology. Plus, he brought the Highwind down because he was looking for some government documents that I was supposed to deliver to Junon. Our friends in Midgar will want to know who he’s working for.”

 

I sigh. “If you can walk by yourself, I’ll tie him up and carry him outside” I said. “From there, it will depend on whether we can find good transportation. If we can’t we’ll have to leave him here.”

He nods. I cut strips of cloth off the edge of my cloak to use as ties. Cid looks satisfied at this action, because now I’ll have to throw the cloak away. It’s just as well; it is a part of my past, which I am leaving behind from now on. I bind the big man’s wrists behind him very tightly, in retaliation for Cid’s wrists. Then I pick him up and throw him over my shoulder, using my inhuman strength to carry him as though he weighs almost nothing.

 

Cid looks around in horror as we make our way out of the silent fortress. He stares at the shredded bodies and blood spattered walls, picking his way with care around corpses and puddles of blood that litter the floor. “Remind me never to make you mad, Vince” he remarks as we cross the large main hall toward the shattered door.

 

“Chaos was hungry” I say simply. He shudders at the remembrance of the demon as we step outside the building.

We circle the fortress, and discover not only a group of armored vehicles, but a single thing which makes Cid gasp and then chortle. A Shinra military helicopter sits by itself in a place of pride, its black hull glinting in the light of the single bulb that shines on an electric pole over the field of vehicles. Its mounted guns and missile racks are both full, and it is obviously this helicopter that the bandits used to shoot down the Highwind.

“Isn’t that a thing of beauty” remarks Cid.

“Can you fly it?” I ask as we walk across the dirt toward it.

“You betcha. I can fly anything, Vince. I’ve always wanted to fly one of these things. Maybe I can take some practice shots at something.”

I very much fear that he just might do that. I get into the helicopter and strap the unconscious bandit chief intro the seat next to me, as Cid climbs in the front and begins to fiddle with the controls. He puts on the pair of headphones, and flicks some switches over his head. The rotor blades begin to turn slowly with a whine, and the running lights flash on. I put on my own pair of headphones as Cid grips the stick and sends the black bird into the sky with a whoop. As the helicopter moves drunkenly into the sky , I close my eyes. It’s going to be a long trip.

 

(Cid POV)

 

Wow, flying that Shinra helicopter was fun. I don’t think Vince had such a good time ,though. He was even paler than usual when I set her down on the helicopter pad on top of the former Shinra headquarters in Midgar. Soldiers poured out of the building to point weapons at us, and we stand with our hands up until a familiar blonde head of spiky hair appears. The shock on Cloud’s face when he sees me is almost worth all the pain.

 

“Cid!” he nearly screams, and hurries over to catch me up in a bone-breaking hug. “You’re alive!”

“Yeah, thanks to Vince” I reply, waving at my silent lover. “He rode to my rescue.”

Cloud sobers a bit as he looks at Vince. “I’m sorry I doubted you, Vincent, when you tried to tell me Cid wasn’t dead” he says.

 

Vince shrugs. “You had no reason to think that he was, Cloud” he replies serenely.

“Come in and see Tifa and Barret” Cloud urges us. “Tifa’s been crying for almost two days straight, now.”

“We got a passenger” I say, jerking my thumb in the direction of the helicopter. “He’s dangerous, so be careful with him. There’s a lot of questions he needs to answer.” Cloud nods and sends a squad of his soldiers to take the bandit chief Goran in custody. They slap some handcuffs onto him once they cut off the cloth strips Vince used to bind his wrists. Goran gives both Vince and I a demonic look of rage as the soldiers herd him into the building.

 

So we have a reunion, and Tifa cries all over me. Barret nearly breaks my back when he hugs me, and even Reeve smiles and shakes my hand. Marlene, who hasn’t understood why ‘momma Tifa’ and Daddy were so sad, greets me casually. Vince is the hero of the hour, and everyone fusses over him until I can see that he is fast losing his patience. So I finally extract him from the clutches of our friends and get Cloud to give us a ride home to Rocket Town in an official helicopter. Shera meets us on the landing field, and then she cries all over me too.

 

Gratefully I shut the door on our house and lean against it, as Vince removes the shredded remains of his cloak and drops it over a chair. He puts the knapsack on the chair, as well, and pulls off his headband with an impatient jerk. His glorious dark hair falls in a veil around his face. It makes me harden just to look at him, this sexy dark man who belongs to me and me alone. I walk up behind him and slide my arms around him, reveling in the feel of his lean-muscled body.

“I’m glad to be home, baby” I whisper into his fall of hair. He sighs in agreement, all the tension draining out of him as he rests in my arms. “Let’s go into the bedroom” I urge him, patting his ass fondly. “I can’t wait to make love to you.”

 

He shudders slightly, his breath catching. His eyes are the color of old blood from desire as he turns in my arms to kiss me savagely. Our tongues duel as he begins to drag me forward while walking backward in the direction of our room. We never stop kissing as he puts a hand back to open the door. We stumble into the room, and I begin to rip his clothes off of him. I never liked those clothes, anyway, and now he won’t ever be able to wear them again. He pulls away from my mouth and laughs as I yank the red shirt off of him in pieces.

“Should I rip your clothes off as well, Cid?” he asks sardonically.

I shrug. “Why not? They’re pretty much a wash, anyway” I point out. My jeans are ripped along the leg where the break was, and the shirt is nearly in ruins from the crash. The scrapes and bruises that were under the rips are healed, but the shirt is nearly in tatters.

As you wish” he says, then proceeds to do just that. His abnormally strong fingers tear the fabric of the jeans as though they’re made of tissue paper. Actually, I kind of enjoy the sight of my lover tearing my clothes off. It’s strangely erotic. I groan as his hand closes on my erection, his fingers tightening until just this side of pain, but only delivering pleasure instead.

 

“Ahh, Vince” I moan as he strokes me.

Before he can make me come in his hand, I push him back on the bed. He goes willingly, ending up draped on the bedspread like a tall dark god of sex. I descend on him like a hungry wolf, licking and sucking my way down that gorgeous neck as he moans breathily. I suck extra hard at the juncture of his neck and shoulder, leaving a bruise against the white skin as my mark of possession.

I bite and lick my way down his chest, sucking at his nipples until he arches into my mouth with a cry. I love to get him going. I know all of his sensitive spots, and I ruthlessly take advantage of them as I continue downward to take his cock in my mouth. He gasped as I envelope him, and I suck hard at his elegant cock to make him writhe and cry out. My hand strokes his balls as I drive him into a state of mindlessness. He comes, crying out my name, as I swallow his rich fluid like an epicure.

He lies panting on the bed, his scarlet eyes mellow in the aftermath. I slide up his body to kiss him on the mouth, letting him taste himself on my lips. “I love the taste of you, Vince” I say. He grimaces. He’s pretty fastidious, and it took me forever just to get him to kiss me once he’d come in my mouth. Took him awhile to be willing to return the favor when I gave him a blowjob, too. I can still remember with amazing clarity the first time he took me in his beautiful mouth as he knelt before me. I nearly came just from the sight, as he awkwardly sucked at me. He’s gotten a lot more skilled since then, at everything.

I begin to lick at the sweat on his body, as he moans in supplication. It never takes long to get Vince going again. He’s the most sensitive, easily aroused lover I’ve ever had. Sometimes all it takes is a touch to get him ready to go. He’s already at half mast again as I begin to make my way down his stomach. I stroke his hardening cock with one hand as I push his leg up to kiss at the soft skin behind his knee. This always sends him off the bed, his cries loud and unmodulated. His head is beginning to twist from side to side as I run my tongue one last time over the back of his knee.

I’m so far gone that I can’t take any more time to tease him. I snag the lube from the side table next to the bed, and prep him quickly. His hips jerk as I probe him with my fingers, and he looks up at me out of half lidded red eyes. “Fuck me, Cid” he demands. He only resorts to language like that when he’s so far gone that he can’t stand it anymore.

 

I lube up my cock and reach down to pull Vince up into my lap. He settles willingly over me, taking me in as his head goes back and his mouth opens. His arms go around my neck, clinging to me. I groan as I sink into the hot tightness of his ass, and he begins to move up and down as he fucks himself on me. I grab onto his lean hips to hold him up as he moves faster and harder, gasping cries torn from his throat. I love this position, because our sweat slicked skin can rub together and I can look up into his face as he loses himself. He throws his head back in ecstasy, and I groan in pleasure as he begins a circular motion with his hips. I know the moment I hit his prostate, because he screams loudly and nearly convulses over me.

Faster, harder, while I move him a bit with my hands so that I can hit his prostate every time. His face is flushed, his mouth open, his red eyes blank as he concentrates on the mind blowing pleasure coursing through him. His cock rubs against my stomach as I use my hands to pull him down on myself extra hard. He comes hard, wailing, his whole body arched as all of his muscles tense. His semen splashes over my chest and stomach, and I come within him as his internal muscles milk me.

 

I wilt against him as he falls on my shoulder. I feel his hair fall all around me, tickling my sensitive skin. At this moment, in this period of peaceful aftermath, I feel such a surge of love for the man in my arms that it nearly overwhelms me. He is my heart, my soul, everything. I tighten my arms around him, holding him close, loving the feel of his soft skin and the sound of his still quickened breathing in my ear.

 

“I love ya, Vince” I breathe. He stirs against me, smiling against my neck.

 

“And I love you, Cid” he replies softly. I feel his lips as he kisses the side of my neck.

“Welcome home” he adds, his human hand beginning to stroke my hair. I close my eyes, utterly content. Strange to think that less than twenty four hours ago I thought that I was a dead man. That I’d never see the man I loved again. And now here I am, with Vince sprawled in my lap, and I’m happier than I think I’ve ever been. No matter that my beloved Highwind is gone, and that Vince wrecked the Little Bronco II. Those things aren’t important. They can always be rebuilt. The only thing that matters to me is the man in my arms. I’ll never forget that fact again, as long as I live. My world begins and ends with Vince, and that’s all right with Cid Highwind. Yessiree.

 

The End


End file.
